Wretched Hope
by Vykk Weasley
Summary: 21 BBY. A troubled Jedi Knight is paired with an orphaned Padawan and sent to Yag'Dhul to help the beleaguered Jedi and their battered clone contingent. They discover more than they bargained for.
1. Alone

_I'm doomed to be alone  
My fate is set in stone  
Why can't I find anyone?  
Why can't my life just be done?  
Why must I be tormented this way?  
Why should I live another day?  
I stand here weeping and falling apart  
My life is empty, as is my heart  
I've given all I have to give  
I want to die, I don't want to live  
Being alone is the source of my pain  
I have no one but myself to blame  
This pain of mine is hard to bear,  
but I know there are people who genuinely care  
It is these few people that keep me going,  
but I wish my pain would just stop flowing_

Why must I suffer life? Jikar asked himself this question every morning upon awakening. While he shrugged on his robes, the answer swam to the top of his brain. They needed him to destroy. He goes along with it, hoping everyday that a blaster shot pierces his heart. Everyday, he is disappointed. Maybe today will be different. Perhaps he won't even need to be killed by the enemy. Today could be the day that he musters up the cowardice to impale himself upon his own lightsaber.

Sighing, Jikar walked forlornly down Processional Way, ascending several steps to the Jedi Temple entrance. He kept his eyes to the floor, blatantly ignoring cheerful greetings on his way to the Jedi Council chambers. Exiting the turbolift at the apex of the High Council spire, Jikar saw that the door to the main council meeting room was closed. Waiting patiently, he pressed his lightsaber's emitter to his neck. His index finger trembled over the activation stud. The door in front of him hissed open as he hurriedly reattached his lightsaber to his belt.

He strode in and stopped in the middle of the room, facing Yoda. He could feel the twelve Masters scrutinizing him. Their piercing gazes stabbed into his heart, sending a shiver up his spine. His lanky frame was tense, causing a knot to form between his shoulder blades. His long black hair partially shrouded his face, cutting off his peripheral vision. Its greasy tendrils clung to his alabaster skin. He stared straight ahead, his eyes matching his dull gray robes.

"Know why you have been summoned, do you?" Yoda asked.

"I assume it's to send me to another insignificant backwater," Jikar answered listlessly.

"Only partially correct, you are," Yoda amended, "A Padawan we have for you."

Jikar's eyes bulged. "A Padawan?" he asked incredulously, "I've done a more than competent enough job by myself. In fact, I dare say I've succeeded brilliantly in my campaigns."

"Indeed you have," Yoda agreed, "but many Padawans, left without Masters, they have been."

"Fine, who is it?" Jikar asked rudely.

"Me," a silky voice said behind him.

Jikar whipped around in surprise. The source of the voice turned out to be a lithe Twi'lek, blue like the sky. She wore a typical Jedi tunic and leggings combo, which did little to conceal her fully developed feminine curves. Her lekku rested on the back of her shoulders. Her seemingly innocent brown eyes combined with her straight nose and full lips to give her face an undeniable allure.

"How did you sneak up behind me?" Jikar demanded.

"Your senses are focused inward," the Padawan replied cannily.

"You have a name?" Jikar asked impatiently.

"Makara Shard," the Padawan replied languidly. "Do you?"

"Do I what?" Jikar asked irritably.

"Have a name, silly," Makara answered, giggling.

"Jikar Loso. So where are you sending us, Master Yoda?" Jikar asked, turning his back on Makara.

"To Yag'Dhul, the planet of the Givin," Yoda replied.

"We have nearly retaken it, but the operation has been stalled for weeks while they await reinforcements. You and the two clone battalions we're sending with you should invigorate the forces holding the line, emboldening them to finish our conquest of the planet," Mace Windu summarized.

"When do we leave and what will be our mode of travel?" Jikar inquired.

"You leave tomorrow and your transportation will be a standard Acclamator cruiser and requisite support ships," Windu supplied, "We own the skies, it's the ground we need to wrap up."

"Very well, Masters. I shall make my preparations and be sure to arrive on time for launch," Jikar said, bowing respectfully.

As he strode from the room, he heard Yoda speak, "Have a question, do you?"

Jikar turned around and opened his mouth to reply and promptly shut it when he saw Yoda's gaze fixed on Makara.

"Yes, Master," Makara answered, "How many Jedi will we find upon arrival?"

"Six, there were. How many remain, we do not know," Yoda replied.

"Thank you, Master," Makara said, bowing.

"Take the rest of the day to familiarize yourselves with each other, as you'll be fighting side by side on the battlefield," Ki-Adi Mundi intoned gently.

"Yes, Master," Jikar and Makara answered simultaneously.

They left the council chambers and made their way to the sparring rooms. Once there, Jikar shrugged off his cloak and drew his lightsaber. Without warning, he lit it and leapt at Makara. She instinctively threw up her left hand, using the Force to try to deflect Jikar. She also drew her own lightsaber and ignited it in her right hand. Jikar allowed Makara's Force push to deflect his body, but left the arm holding the lightsaber extended straight at her. Comprehension dawned on her face as she tried too late to bat his saber away. Easily swinging around her hasty block, Jikar sliced a shallow cut into her stomach. He landed facing away from her.

Makara's face contorted with anger as she swung at his back. He took a casual step forward, avoiding her downward stroke entirely. He disarmed her with a sharp uppercut to her saber and delivered a sharp kick to her abdomen. He looked down on her disdainfully as she sprawled on the floor.

"So this is what they've saddled me with," he said contemptuously, "a mere child that's quick to anger and has the reflexes of a drunken Gamorrean."

Makara lifted herself off the floor and stood to face Jikar, fire in her gaze. "You hold yourself very close," she grated out "It is difficult to discern your intentions through the Force."

"Granted," Jikar agreed, "but that is no excuse for your abysmal performance just now."

"Forgive me, Master, but I have never trained so…vigorously," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"An obvious defect of your former Master. I will train you not just vigorously, but almost brutally. My first Padawan was able to rise to the challenge and ascend to Jedi Knighthood," he said proudly.

"At least I know I'm in good hands," she commented, smiling weakly.

"Indeed. Now, retrieve your saber," he ordered.

Makara stretched her arm out to call her lightsaber to her. Jikar sliced viciously at the arm, nearly striking a vein. Makara's lightsaber fell to the floor as she recoiled, holding her arm to her chest. She glared daggers at Jikar, but made no aggressive move.

"So you can control your anger after all. Now you just need to learn not to remain unarmed in a threatened area. Retrieve your saber," he ordered again.

Without gesturing, Makara called her saber to her right hand and lit it. A split second later, she wildly parried Jikar's sudden overhand strike. He grinned widely at her, and then kicked her legs out from under her. They continued sparring in this fashion, flurries of starts and stops punctuated by Jikar's brittle sarcasm. When they at last finished, Makara was panting with exhaustion while Jikar couldn't stop himself grinning like an idiot. He looked into Makara's eyes with manic glee, eliciting another forced smile from Makara. As he looked away, his eyes roved of their own accord up and down Makara's sweat-soaked clothes. Her heaving chest riveted him for a split second and her shapely legs almost interrupted his eyes' mad sprint to the floor. Mentally berating himself, Jikar swept from the room, leaving a bemused Makara in his wake.


	2. Towers

_Crash, burn, fire_  
_Have a desire_  
_To live, breathe and love_  
_But sent to the skies above_

_Scream, plead, weep_  
_Falling so steep_  
_Torn by gravity's embrace_  
_Absolute fear etched on face_

_Heave, douse, try_  
_Do not cry_  
_For help is here_  
_Give a cheer_

_Cling, wait, hope_  
_Upon a slippery slope_  
_Hearts beat faster_  
_Awaiting fate's master_

_Relax, die, quit_  
_No one cares a bit_  
_For lives too hard to save_  
_Find an early grave_

_Struggle, strain, crawl_  
_This is not all_  
_There is to life_  
_Overcome strife_

_Emerge, straighten, stand_  
_Victory is at hand_  
_After adversity so long_  
_Faith remains strong_

Stepping out of their landing craft on Yag'Dhul, Jikar and Makara took a moment to inhale the planet. They breathed in the barren landscape, dotted here and there with concentrations of life. They exhaled their minor anxieties and prepared for battle. A Commander walked up to them and saluted.

"I'm here to brief you on the situation, General," the clone said plainly.

"Excellent, what have we got?" Jikar asked.

"There's a standoff not too far from the command center. They almost forced us to retreat, but we stood firm. We think they're getting ready to make a push, though. That's why I'm glad that you've arrived," the clone explained.

"Makara, send our clone battalions to fortify our forward position," Jikar ordered.

"Yes, Master," Makara said, rushing off to obey.

"Thank you, sir," the clone said gratefully.

"Where are the other Jedi?" Jikar asked concernedly.

"There are only three left, sir, all Padawans," the clone said regretfully.

"Who's in charge?" Jikar demanded.

"You, sir," the clone answered.

Jikar sighed impatiently. "Who was in charge before I got here?"

"Commander Har'gles. Um…permission to speak freely, sir?" the clone asked hesitantly.

"Granted," Jikar replied, frowning.

"Commander Har'gles doesn't quite measure up. We have…disobeyed some of his orders. It took two thousand wasted deaths before we would even consider it. The other two Commanders insisted that we make our own decisions and Commander Har'gles eventually relented. He does nothing but sit and meditate now," the clone said, stoically waiting to be dressed down for slandering a superior officer.

"At ease, Commander," Jikar said, waving his hand dismissively, "I'm in command now. Take me to the command center."

"At once, General," the clone said resolutely.

He signaled for a speeder, which pulled up seconds later. He and Jikar got in and sped off. As Jikar surveyed the camp, he found it to be oddly deserted.

As if reading his mind, the clone piped in, "All available troops are at the front. With your reinforcements, some of us can get some needed rest."

"Very good. I trust that Har'gles is competent enough to oversee that. I'll see to it once we arrive at the command center," Jikar assured.

"Yes, sir," the clone said mechanically.

Minutes later, they pulled up to the command center to find it a hive of activity. Clone troopers milled about while the three Jedi sat silently in a corner, meditating. Sensing Jikar's presence, all three looked up. Har'gles immediately stood up and approached. The other two soon followed in his wake.

"I'm glad you're here, Master. I'm Evanik Har'gles and these two are Frelliz Trineb and Mestra Pawlan," he said, indicating a Gand and a human, respectively.

Jikar nodded to each in turn, introducing himself and Makara, then focused his attention on Evanik. The Caamasi exuded calm tinged with relief. Frelliz was extremely agitated and ashamed of himself while Mestra was strangely indecipherable. Intrigued, Jikar tried to do an overt read of her through the Force. He sensed her mental defenses tightening and knew he wouldn't be able to get in unless he devoted himself to it. As he turned back to Evanik, he noticed a glint in her eye accompanied by a barely perceptible smirk.

"I've been briefed by Commander…" Jikar trailed off.

"Bren," Evanik supplied.

"And I'd like to hear your take on recent events," Jikar finished.

"We made some decisions that, in hindsight, were ill-advised. With input from the troops, we decided to cede command to them, as they were more qualified. We are happy that the Council saw fit to send us a Master," Evanik explained.

"I'm not a Master, just a Knight," Jikar corrected.

"Still, we now have a Jedi wiser than us to lead," Evanik pointed out.

"That you do," Jikar agreed, "I'll walk around and examine the stations until I'm confident that I have the whole picture."

"Of course, Master," Evanik said, bowing respectfully.

Jikar began by closing his eyes and reaching out to the battlefront mere dozens of meters away. He felt the reinforced clones beginning to push forward. They did so slowly however, as they were still shifting positions to allow some troops rest. From the command center, he felt the cool military minds of the clones and the anxiety of the Padawans.

Opening his eyes, he commenced inspection of the various tactical stations. He watched calmly, issuing few orders. He seemed particularly interested in the graphical representation of the battle. He pointed at the area of the heaviest fighting.

"Makara and I will fight here and the three of you will go here," he declared, indicating another choke point.

"Yes, Master," they all said in unison.

Makara waited patiently until Jikar signaled they were ready to go. Since the fighting was so close, they broke into a run. Thirty seconds later, they could hear blasterfire. Cresting the final hill, they looked down on the chaos below. Clones were huddled behind a few rocks in the vicinity while a horde of super battle droids stood in plain sight, coldly dealing death with their wrist-mounted blaster cannons. The droids outnumbered the clones two to one.

"Ready?" Jikar asked.

"Yes, Master," Makara replied nervously.

"Calm yourself, Makara," Jikar advised.

"Yes, Master," she said, making an effort to repress her fear and transforming her face into a grim mask.

Satisfied, Jikar ran full-speed into the battle, Makara hot on his heels. Their lightsabers flashed and sliced, shearing through droid after droid. They deflected blaster bolts from multiple directions, but received several grazes from unblocked or partially deflected shots. Let one get through, Jikar told himself.

"No, Master," Makara said aloud.

Surprised, Jikar locked his mind up tight and focused on destroying droids. Several minutes later, the droids were all but routed. The remaining few retreated quickly. Jikar and Makara ran after them, deflecting their shots on the run. The ravaged clone contingent followed closely, taking occasional potshots. A few meters ahead, the droids disappeared behind a hill. Jikar's danger sense shrieked.

"Halt!" he bellowed.

The clones stopped immediately. Faint discharges could be heard some distance away. Suddenly, there was an explosion in the middle of the clone formation. The clones at the epicenter of the blast were disintegrated while dozens were blown clear, some of them dismembered. A body slammed into Jikar's back, bowling him over. As he fell, he was able to get a brief peek over the hill. He could barely make out the row of Hailfire droids speeding toward them. Little more than missile banks mounted between two giant wheels, the Hailfires rapidly closed the gap between them and the clones.

"Find cover!" he shouted over the din.

The clones immediately dispersed as explosions continued to pockmark the ground they had just been standing on. A few stragglers caught the edges of the blasts. Jikar whipped out his comlink and called for air reinforcements. Seconds later, he heard the familiar whine of LAAT/i gunships. They launched missiles at maximum range, decimating the Separatist lines. The remaining Hailfires rolled on, undaunted, inflicting moderate losses on the gunships. The gunships swept those away with their composite beam lasers. Jikar turned off his lightsaber and saluted the gunships as they flew overhead to finish off the remaining droids.

"Back to the command center!" he shouted.

The few dozen remaining clones followed Jikar and Makara back to the command center. Jikar took a moment to analyze the battlefield monitors. The tide of battle seemed to be turning in the Republic's favor. Commander Bren strode up to them and saluted. Even with his armor on, he seemed positively giddy.

"You've only been here an hour and already the battle is turning," he praised.

"It appears that the Padawans are still having trouble. The clones there have been worn down to almost nothing. All infantry not currently engaged or otherwise out of commission will come with me to bolster their attack," Jikar commanded.

The clones assembled in just over a minute. Jikar gestured to Makara and together they ran to reinforce the embattled Padawans. When they arrived, they saw a truly desperate situation. The three Jedi stood meters away from the Separatist firing line, doing nothing but deflecting blaster bolts. A handful of clones huddled behind them, picking off droid after droid. As they rushed to help, they saw Frelliz felled by a shot to the head. Several droids lowered their arms slightly and perforated the Gand mercilessly. Jikar felt the cessation of life as if a circuit breaker had been tripped.

The clones behind Jikar planted their feet and fired, immediately cutting great swaths through the droid formation. However, the odds remained firmly in the droids' favor. Jikar and Makara took up positions next to Evanik and Mestra, helping them stem the tide of blasterfire coming at their troops. They vaguely heard grunts behind them as clones died from grievous wounds.

Suddenly, a shot hit Makara in the shoulder, spinning her around. In a split-second, she was facing the droids again. A faint crackling began to emanate from her fingers accompanied by a harsh blue glow. She snarled loudly as she viciously hurled her Force lightning at the droid that had shot her. The lightning was so powerful that it shorted out dozens of droids in the vicinity. A feral grin lit her face as she hurled another bolt. Minutes later, it was all over.

"I'm troubled by how you handled yourself, Makara. Such actions are clearly of the dark side," Evanik said gravely.

"It got the job done, didn't it?" Makara retorted.

"Calm yourself, Padawan," Jikar urged gently.

"Yes, Master," Makara grated out.

Makara inhaled sharply and let the breath out slowly, seemingly expelling her anger and rage. Her face was left with an expression of serenity, slightly tinged with apprehension.

"Sorry, Master," Makara apologized.

"Don't be sorry. Learn from your missteps," Jikar instructed.

"Yes, Master," Makara said dutifully.

"It is good to see one able to see reason so quickly," Evanik said admiringly.

"Some would see a switch like that as a sign of instability. Control broken so drastically can be an indicator of a deep-seated problem," Mestra said shrewdly.

Makara stared daggers at Mestra, but otherwise retained her composure. They walked back to the command center in silence. Most looked inward, sensing where they had been injured and treating themselves if possible. Makara seethed with anger, but kept it under control.

They arrived at the command center to cheers and congratulations. Endless clones slapped Jikar on the back, offering their congratulations. Bren briskly walked up to Jikar, nearly overdoing his salute. Everyone present could feel the wide grin under his helmet.

"Welcome back, General. In a few short hours, you've turned this battle from a desperate holding action to being within a hairsbreadth of victory. All over the planet, droids are retreating," Bren said happily.

"Where are their big guns?" Jikar asked worriedly, "All we've faced is infantry and a handful of Hailfire droids. I have a bad feeling about this."

"I sense it, too," Evanik said from behind Jikar.

Bren looked between the two Jedi, clearly anxious.

"What are the positions of Yag'Dhul's moons?" Jikar asked suddenly.

"Let's go to Sensors and find out," Bren offered, leading them across the compound. He talked briefly with the sensor specialist and turned around, noticeably less jubilant than before. "One moon will be brushing the atmosphere above us in approximately two hours."

"We can leave the heavy artillery; it's only effective on a large scale. Our larties have been hit too hard as it is. And we can't bring in very many walkers and still have effective infantry support, but that seems to be our best bet. Have the larty carriers bring in twenty of them immediately, and make sure they're loaded with the special ammunition I brought," Jikar ordered.

"Right away, sir," Bren said crisply.

Jikar turned to the communications officer. "Sound the evacuation. All personnel that don't have access to breath masks or vacuum-sealed armor will board shuttles immediately. The rest will remain here with us to hold our position."

"Yes, sir," the communications officer said, saluting smartly.

The camp turned into a scene of utter chaos. Shelters were quickly disassembled and packed away. Few stragglers remained after the first hour. One thousand troopers with breath masks stayed behind. Minutes later, the earthquakes started. Minor bits of equipment that hadn't been secured fell over and fetched up against chairs and consoles. The troopers barely moved, most standing stock-still. Jikar abruptly started fumbling with his robes, searching for his comlink.

"Report," Jikar said, holding the comlink to his lips.

"Separatist troops are advancing. You were right about their big guns. They have several spider droids, spider walkers and a handful of snail tanks," Bren said, his voice faintly tinged with static.

"I'll be right over," Jikar assured.

He rushed over to Sensors and calmly assessed the situation. Several troopers openly stared at him, waiting for an order.

"Do our ships in orbit have firing solutions for orbital bombardment?" Jikar asked curtly.

"Yes, General, but the target has to be a kilometer from us for optimal performance," Bren replied glumly.

Jikar analyzed the range indicators for a moment before speaking. "Order them to fire immediately along this line," he said, tracing a line on the screen.

Bren whisked out his comlink and gave the order, ignoring the fact that Jikar's line was half a kilometer from their position. A sound like thunder began to accompany the bass rumbling of the trembling ground. Bright flashes appeared on Sensors, drilling into the rear of the Separatist formation.

"Still three-quarters of them left," Jikar said regretfully.

"But now we have a fighting chance, sir," Bren said encouragingly.

"That we do," Jikar agreed reluctantly, "Form up around the walkers. How long do we have to hold before the vacuum has passed?"

"An hour, General," Bren replied bitterly.

"Then it's up to us," Jikar said, sighing.

Bren went off to help prepare for battle. Jikar stared forlornly at the floor while the Padawans spent the time centering themselves. The clones mobilized immediately, beating the Jedi to the front lines by minutes. The Jedi huddled around the vanguard AT-TE, using their Force-enhanced senses to keep watch on the horizon. The line of AT-TEs resembled a row of marauding scarab beetles with their mass-driver cannons taking the place of feelers.

"They're about to reach the hill, General. One minute," Bren relayed.

Fifty-five seconds later, they could hear a faint rumbling coming from the horizon. Jikar whipped out his comlink.

"Walkers, fire Gungan boomers!" Jikar commanded.

The clones reacted with lightning speed. All AT-TEs fired almost in unison at the precise moment the Separatist army crested the hill. Most of the Gungan boomers slammed full force into many of the larger droids, disabling them completely. A few bowled over dozens of super battle droids. Dead hulks tripped up several droids that were charging at top speed towards the Republic command center.

Seeing the Separatist formation in complete disarray, Jikar signaled the charge. The AT-TEs plodded forward, now firing standard rounds from their cannons. Clones ran full speed, holding their rifles steady as they unleashed energy bolts upon the disorganized droids. The Jedi jogged ahead, sabers lit, taking care to remain within a few meters of the charging Republic line.

The droids returned fire as they rebuilt their formation. Fallen droids picked themselves up. Larger droids untangled their gangly legs. Cohesion restored, the droids advanced slowly, ready to overwhelm the still inferior Republic force.

The Jedi sliced through the Separatist front lines, decimating super battle droids and even felling a few spider walkers. In her eagerness to destroy, Makara failed to evade a falling spider walker. The leg she cut smacked her on the side of the head, knocking her unconscious. The main body of the droid missed her, but one of the intact legs slammed into her stomach, pinning her. Ignoring her, the droids continued to focus their attention on the front lines.

Mestra was back to back with Evanik, deflecting blaster bolts and carving up droids. Feeling boxed in, Mestra unleashed a Force wave, flattening dozens of droids to the ground. The reprieve lasted mere seconds as the droids heaved themselves up and resumed firing. Frustrated, Mestra dropped her lightsaber and let loose with a massive Force storm. Tendrils of electricity extended to touch literally a thousand droids. A gargantuan hole meters in diameter surrounded the seething Mestra. Evanik stared at her with a mix of awe and outright fear. Mestra appeared to have aged ten years in a matter of seconds. Evanik fled towards Jikar.

Jikar was fighting more conventionally, firing a discarded blaster pistol while deftly turning back blasterfire with his lightsaber. A few clones stood behind him, taking advantage of the added protection by picking off droids more deliberately. Three battered AT-TEs were accounting for hundreds of droids by themselves. They fired from afar into the rear of the droid formation, receiving little return fire. Despite the droids' heavy losses, they still outnumbered the clones nearly five to one.

Mestra stalked forward, her expression one of pure hatred. Nearby droids quickly awoke to the threat, saturating her with blasterfire. Strangely, their energy terminated once it touched her skin and left no mark. A wicked grin sprang to her face as she raised her hands into the air. Once again, an explosion of electrical energy swept across the mass of droids. However, the extreme use of Force energy was sapping her physical strength. Only her anger kept her back straight, her eyes lit with fury.

Jikar, disturbed by the power of the dark side radiating from Mestra, was barely able to keep focus on his area of the battle. Through the Force he could tell that his was the only substantial group of Republic soldiers left. Jikar could feel Evanik drawing isolated clones together for mutual protection. Moments later, Evanik materialized beside him.

Mestra came within sight of Jikar and Evanik, who seemingly failed to notice her. Several droids did, however, but this time they launched grenades at her. She used the Force to casually toss them aside then gathered her strength for another onslaught. She snarled as she released a third Force storm, wiping out the remaining droids. Amidst the surge of power, she felt a light prickling sensation. She looked down to see Evanik pulling the hilt of his still lit lightsaber away from her chest and deactivating it. Comprehension dawned on her face as the light left her eyes and she sagged to the ground. Having expended so much energy, the explosion of dark side power that obliterated her body was little more than a puff of smoke.

"We're done here," Jikar pronounced.


	3. Lost

_I'm lost. I don't know where to go  
I look left and right, high and low  
I can't find anything that looks right  
I must be blind, for I've lost my sight  
I need a helping hand, but none come  
I'm standing alone in the dark, completely numb  
I'm tired of running toward nothing in particular  
I want to see a light, before I go too far  
Whether it's death or life is immaterial  
As long as it takes me to something ethereal  
I'm forging ahead without a clear destination  
Making my life a mere imitation  
I'm a flailing fighter, desperate to wrap my mind around an idea  
To have an epiphany or a moment of euphoria_

Jikar's quarters aboard his flagship were too small for a complete post-battle analysis, but perfectly adequate for a Jedi debriefing on the way to Coruscant.

"You knew of Mestra's leanings, yet you said nothing?" Jikar asked Evanik.

Evanik nodded solemnly. "I sensed a certain darkness in her, but it felt so faint that I dismissed it in light of more pressing matters."

"Yes, she did hold herself quite close," Jikar agreed.

"Much as you do, Master," Makara quipped.

"_I_ didn't just use Force lightning out there." Jikar said, raising his voice slightly.

"Peace, Master. I believe she meant it as a curious observation, nothing more," Evanik said conciliatorily.

"Very well," Jikar relented, "What about Mestra?"

"She was very quiet," Evanik began, "but when she spoke, I could hear a clear edge in her voice. It was much like her darkness in a way, vague and elusive. When she did not step forward to take command, I assumed the role."

"So there were no indications in her history that she had any dark leanings?" Jikar asked, mystified.

"Not at all," Evanik answered, shaking his head, "I think her abrupt corruption stemmed from her grief at the death of her Master, even though Jedi are supposed to be above such attachment."

"Such attachments can arise when a Master is careless," Jikar commented.

"Of course, but I found Mestra's Master to be quite astute and appropriately distant without being unreachable. Perhaps the absence of guidance hastened her fall," Evanik suggested.

"Perhaps," Jikar said, not convinced, "I'm sure it will become clearer once I've had a chance to speak with the Council."

With that implicit dismissal, Evanik bowed and left for his quarters. Jikar and Makara stared at each other for a minute, making sure Evanik was gone.

"Did you have anything to do with that, Padawan?" Jikar asked sternly.

"He answered for himself," Makara replied confidently.

"I mean Mestra," Jikar said brusquely, "I find it hard to believe that she would embrace the dark side so quickly, even with the death of her Master."

"We did talk briefly before the first battle," Makara admitted.

"About?" Jikar pressed.

"How to use the Force in life or death situations," she answered quietly.

"And I suppose your Force lightning was just to show her how it was done?" he asked scathingly.

"I just lost control for a second," she stammered, eyes darting to the floor.

"I highly doubt that. Your darkness has become more apparent as I've gotten to know you. You seem to be a creature of uncontrollable passions," he admonished.

"Like the sparring room?" she retorted.

"What do you mean?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"I didn't have to see your eyes to feel your desire," she said flatly.

"A momentary lapse," he mumbled.

"Yet you can't meet my eyes," she said scathingly.

Jikar's eyes slowly rose to meet hers and he felt the same warmth spread from his loins. He closed his eyes and grabbed his forehead in frustration, trying without success to dispel images of Makara from his mind. Reopening his eyes, he found his chin inches from Makara's nose.

"I don't mind," Makara said silkily, pulling Jikar into a kiss.

Stiffening at first, Jikar soon relaxed into the kiss. Their rational minds were somehow dormant, allowing their carnal desires to kindle a raging fire inside them. For the moment, it didn't matter that this would surely destroy them. It was an unstoppable animal attraction shared by two tortured souls.

A jarring noise awakened Jikar and Makara. Jikar sat up rapidly just in time to hear an urgent knock at their door. It slid aside for Evanik as the lights illuminated the room. Too late, Makara pulled the blanket over her head.

"What is this?" Evanik asked, flabbergasted.

Frantically, Makara grabbed a datapad with the Force and slammed it into the back of Evanik's head, knocking him unconscious.

"Your reflexes have improved," Jikar commended.

"All thanks to your _spirited_ training," Makara said, causing Jikar to blush.

Makara got out of bed and called her lightsaber to her waiting hand. She flicked it on and slashed at Evanik, only to be blocked by Jikar.

"What are you doing?" Jikar demanded.

"Trying to get him to go into a hibernation trance, so it will be easier to modify his memory," Makara answered, deactivating her lightsaber and reattaching it to her belt.

Jikar shook his head, switching off his own saber. "That was shocking enough to have created a memnis. The only way to ensure he forgets is to kill him. I can force him into a trance without inflicting bodily harm. We'll deal with him later."

"Unless we kill him, we will be banished from the Jedi Order," Makara argued.

"We've skated too close to the dark side to deserve continued membership in the Order. No matter how careful we are, the Council will discover our misdeeds," Jikar countered.

"All the more reason to go through with it," she retorted, "Our days as Jedi are over no matter what."

"We'll deal with this _later_," Jikar insisted, "Let's get dressed and meet on the bridge."

Makara's eyes narrowed, but she nodded and joined Jikar in searching the floor for their undergarments. Two minutes later, they were fully dressed and rushing to the bridge. They arrived at the blast doors just as they opened. Bren's relief upon seeing them was palpable.

"General, we've been dragged from hyperspace by a large asteroid directly in our path. Sensors have also located several Separatist ships approaching our position. What are our orders?" Bren asked desperately.

"Deploy fighters and fire upon any hostile that comes within range. Once the fighters are away, full reverse. I'll be out there in my starfighter. Makara will remain here on the bridge to relay my orders and observe the battle through the Force. Get the crews to their fighters," he ordered.

The bridge crew rushed to comply with the orders. Jikar himself hurriedly prepped and launched in his dagger-like Delta-7. He deftly weaved in and out of the fighter screen, positioning himself at the vanguard of the Republic spearhead. ARC-170s, copiloted by clones with laser cannons at the tips of their outstretched wings, formed up behind him along with swing-winged V-19 Torrents. Separatist ships converged on the asteroid, preparing to pursue the beleaguered Republic force.

Jikar flew into the heart of the Separatist formation, narrowly dodging crisscrossing turbolaser blasts. A kilometer from the asteroid, he pulled up sharply and released two seismic charges from his tiny cargo hold. As he raced back towards the Republic fleet, he guided the seismic charges with the Force to collide with the asteroid. Debris exploded outward, demolishing most of the Separatist fleet and decimating several Republic starfighters engaged in dogfights.

"Brilliant, General!" Bren shouted over the comm, "The Separatists are forming up to retreat. We need only to collect our starfighters and resume the journey to Coruscant."

"Very good, Lieutenant," Jikar acknowledged.

As Jikar brought his fighter in for a landing, he noticed several strange shuttles occupying the deck. Before he could examine this peculiarity, his danger sense flared up unexpectedly. He popped his canopy in mid-air and leapt from the pilot's seat. His starfighter was blasted apart as he hit the deck, landing amidst its flaming wreckage.

He pulled his lightsaber and ignited it as dozens of super battle droids opened fire. His lightsaber was a whirlwind of light as he dodged and deflected blaster bolts all around him. Realizing the futility of total defense, Jikar charged. He bisected three droids in a single stroke and slammed ten more against the wall with a hastily aimed Force wave. Multiple blaster bolts grazed him, but none were able to pierce his body. Pity, he thought. Less than a minute after the frenzied battle had begun, Jikar stood alone in the landing bay. Blood seeped from minor wounds and fatigue weighed heavily on his shoulders.

"Commander, they're almost to the bridge!" Bren said frantically.

"Where is General Jikar?" Makara asked anxiously.

"He's fighting the droids lingering in the landing bay," Bren replied, "No, wait! He's finished with them and is heading for the exit."

"Close the blast doors," Makara ordered.

Suddenly, the comm crackled and Jikar's voice boomed across the bridge.

"Open the blast doors! Open the blast doors!" he yelled.

Bren hurried to comply, but was forced to wait for the blast doors to cycle. As the doors slid ponderously open moments later, a torrent of blasterfire impacted the viewport opposite them. Jikar slowly backed into the room. His pilot jumpsuit was smoking and torn in several places as he kept the droids at bay. Some of the bridge crew abandoned their stations and added their fire to Jikar's deflected barrage. Makara leapt in front of Jikar, shoving him backward with the Force. Jikar fell over onto his back and lay there for a few seconds. Then, heaving himself up, he directed a massive Force wave at the wall of enemies, toppling dozens of droids. Clones rushed to perforate the fallen droids as Makara maintained her stalwart defense.

"Return to your stations and close the blast doors. Get us moving towards Coruscant with all speed," Jikar ordered.

The clones obeyed, shutting the blast doors leaving Jikar and Makara to face the remaining droids. Once the doors clicked shut, Makara let loose a burst of Force lightning. All droids in the hallway twitched then lay still. Jikar stared at her, appalled.

"My quarters, now," he commanded.

Makara obediently followed him down the hall to their quarters. Evanik's unconscious form remained where they had left him. Once the door glided shut, Makara sidled over to Jikar's side, pressing her body against his.

"No," Jikar stated firmly.

"You know you want it," Makara whispered into his ear.

"No," Jikar repeated, his voice beginning to waver.

Makara embraced Jikar and began kissing his neck. Jikar felt his mind compressing under the weight of his physical attraction to Makara. Her lekku squirmed in delight as she pressed her body to his. Turning his head, she engulfed his mouth with hers and squeezed him tighter. She edged her way towards the bed, gently pulling Jikar with her. He resisted at first, but something faint at the back of his mind urged him forward. On the edge of unrestrained animal lust, the truth blossomed in his mind, flooding his awareness. He abruptly drew away from Makara, glaring at her with a look of betrayal.

"You!" he shouted angrily, "You're using Jedi mind influence. How can a Padawan be doing this to a Jedi Knight?"

"My first Master was a Falleen that was very good at Jedi mind tricks. He instilled me with this voracious hunger for pleasures of the flesh and taught me a technique that produces the same effect as Falleen pheromones. Even now, I can barely control myself. Allow me my release. Please!" she pleaded.

"Just center yourself like I taught you," Jikar said calmly, "Relax. Stifle the heat permeating your body."

Makara closed her eyes, entering a meditative state. Seconds later, she moaned loudly. Opening her eyes, she sighed contentedly.

"I certainly didn't teach you that. Are you lucid?" he asked tentatively.

"No thanks to you," she snapped.

"Good," he said, ignoring the venom in her voice, "Let's go to a more airy place."

"Fine," she said stiffly.

Jikar left immediately, rushing to a nearby sparring room. Makara was about to leave when she nearly stumbled over Evanik's prostrate form. Her upper lip curled into a sneer as she withdrew her lightsaber from her belt. Switching it on, she quickly beheaded Evanik. She then immersed herself in the Force for a moment, making sure Evanik's death hadn't been noticed. Satisfied, she left to meet Jikar.


	4. Evil

_Evil can be hard to see and recognize  
because it dwells in shadow  
It is sneaky and devious  
an elusive foe_

It strikes when we are weak  
and flees when we are strong  
It can be present when we are right  
and all too apparent when we are wrong

It encourages us to deviate from the path of righteousness  
and set our course to a downward spiral  
It can infect our thoughts and warp our deeds  
It is a rampant disease that is highly viral

They stood opposite one another in the empty sparring room. Jikar took a deep breath and released it.

"Good," he began, "Now let's sort this out."

"What is there to sort out?" Makara asked irritably.

"Evanik's murder, for one," Jikar replied sharply.

"You felt that?" she asked, plainly surprised.

"Indeed I did," he confirmed, "If I hadn't given in to my embarrassment and left so quickly, he would still be alive."

"You know what would have happened if you had lingered," she said suggestively.

"Yes, you may have succeeded in seducing me the second time around," he conceded, "That was precisely why I left almost immediately after I broke the tension."

"There's a floor. We could break the tension right now," she said alluringly.

"I'm not finished yet," he said adamantly.

"Neither was I," she retorted.

"Which brings up my main point," he said succinctly.

"What is wrong with me that you haven't embraced?" she asked defensively.

"Your anger, which I must admit probably stems from your ravenous sexual appetite. Remember, there is no passion, there is serenity," he answered.

"You fell victim to it just as I did," she retorted

"Yes," he agreed reluctantly, "a moment of weakness, no more."

"Suicidal thoughts open a window into the most protected minds," she said shrewdly.

"Nevertheless, your manipulation ends now," he said, narrowing his eyes.

"Along with your life!" she growled, hurling a bolt of Force lightning.

Taken by surprise, Jikar fetched sharply against the wall and crumpled to the ground. Makara's grin of triumph turned into a frown of dismay as Jikar immediately stood up and shrugged off his robes. Both drew their lightsabers and ignited them.

"Whatever happens, Jikar, you win. If I die, it's another victory for the Jedi over the dark side. If you die, your lifelong wish will be fulfilled," Makara said nastily.

Jikar leapt at Makara, and the battle was joined. Jikar probed Makara's defenses mercilessly. For her own part, Makara was demonstrating far more skill than their sparring sessions had revealed. Their feet planted firmly on the floor, they fought with nothing but their lightsabers for the first few minutes.

The tempo of the battle changed abruptly when Jikar leapt over Makara's head and landed a devastating kick on her right lek. She cried out in pain, hacking viciously at Jikar's hastily raised saber. Jikar deflected her slash just enough to avoid injury, but it forced his lightsaber from his grip. It skittered across the floor as Jikar tripped Makara with a haphazard Force push. He called his lightsaber to his right hand, clasping it firmly as Makara regained her balance.

Her face contorted in hate, Makara sent a bolt of Force lightning at Jikar. He absorbed most of the blast on his lightsaber while the remaining energy caused his entire body to tingle for a moment. Snarling, Makara dropped her lightsaber and used both hands to deliver another deluge. Jikar's defense held for a few seconds, but Makara moved her hands apart slightly, allowing more energy to bypass Jikar's lightsaber. Finally, a bolt found his chest, throwing him across the room and once again separating him from his lightsaber.

Makara picked up her lightsaber and vaulted after Jikar, determined to finish him. At the last second, Jikar rolled out of the way of her downward slash and called his lightsaber back to him. As he blocked and parried Makara's blows, fatigue began to slow his responses. Makara's intensity unabated, she pierced Jikar's defenses, opening a shallow cut across his chest. In the split second Jikar winced, she ripped a deeper gash in his chest perpendicular to the first. Blood streamed liberally from the wounds, drenching his tunic.

Jikar lowered his saber, ready to accept his imminent death. Grinning wickedly, Makara stabbed him through the heart where her previous two slashes met. Jikar did little more than wince, exhausted as he was by the duel. She slowly pulled her lightsaber from his ruptured chest, sensing victory.

"I...was wrong," Jikar rasped.

The effort of speaking caused Jikar to collapse into a fit of hacking coughs. The feeling of elation he expected to feel was absent. All he could feel was blinding pain. The last of his strength gave out and his chest hit the ground with a wet slap. His mind was still working furiously, however, searching for a handle on the moment. His confusion shattered the walls he had carefully built around his feelings. The depth of his naiveté surprised him the most. He is not the frail tormented creature he always thought he was. He is a Jedi.


	5. Void

_Don't try to kill the void  
That only makes it stronger  
Neither can the void be allowed to win  
It feasts on loneliness, gorges on despair  
The company of others affords a brief respite  
After which the burden doubles  
It eats more life every second  
It harbors a crude imitation of life  
Be mindful of the void, it deceives  
Existence is excruciating on the inside  
There is no happiness, only nothing  
Giddy moments come and go  
Tantalizing with glimpses of what could be  
Drowning the void is impossible  
Smoking the void out is ludicrous  
Facing the void never leads to more pain  
Nor does it always lead to joy  
The void is an endless cycle of swallowing and spitting  
It swallows the self, regurgitating a tarnished version  
There is no falling in  
The void only comes by invitation  
But lingers as long as possible  
Anger beats it back, but not for long  
It scoffs at willpower and determination  
A single hand can pull you out of the void  
Whose will it be, and when will it come?_

"Sir?" a voice said, piercing the darkness.

Jikar's first impression was of a hand on his shoulder. His second thought was amazement. How was he still alive? And more importantly, why?

"Makara?" he wheezed.

"Padawan Shard has disappeared, sir," came the reply.

"Then she could still be on the ship," Jikar stated.

The man cleared his throat before saying tentatively, "You're on Coruscant, sir."

Finally, Jikar opened his eyes, squinting as a blinding white light exploded in his vision. Staring back at him was a face he had grown familiar with over the past year, as had all Jedi. He furrowed his brow in concentration, feeling that he should recognize this particular clone. Doing a quick probe of the clone's surface thoughts brought realization.

"Commander Bren. Nice to see you again," Jikar greeted.

"Nice to see you conscious, General," Bren said dryly.

"How long was I out?" Jikar asked.

"Only a few days, sir," Bren replied.

"What happened?"

"Padawan Shard told me that you had requested my presence in the sparring room. When I got there, I saw you in a pool of blood and called for a medic. I just wish she hadn't disappeared. I'd very much like to put a blaster bolt right between her eyes."

"You and me both, Bren. Does the Jedi Council know?"

"They know the basics. You're supposed to go before them for debriefing as soon as you are able."

"No use in putting it off," Jikar said, heaving himself up.

Or rather, trying to heave himself up. His head had barely left the pillow before pain ignited in his chest. He winced as Bren slammed his gauntlet onto Jikar's neck and kept it there.

"You've sustained massive injuries to your torso, General. You're just lucky the lightsaber only grazed your heart. Otherwise, you'd have been dead when I found you."

"Why couldn't I feel it?"

"Painkillers, sir. And if you try to get up again, I'll get the medic to restrain you. Do I have to do that, sir?"

"No, Bren, I'll stay put. How long until I can get up?"

"Another week, sir. You'll be slicing up droids before you know it," Bren replied, smiling.

"I'll see you in a week, then."

"No you won't, sir. I'm being deployed tomorrow."

"Glad to see you recovered, we are," Yoda greeted.

"Thank you, Master," Jikar acknowledged.

"Your wounds, inflicted with a lightsaber, they were. Padawan Shard, fallen to the dark side, she has."

"Yes, Master."

Jikar, ashamed with himself, reverted to his long forgotten Padawan demeanor. His eyes never strayed from the floor and his hands could not stay still. It was all he could do not to stammer.

"Place blame on yourself, do not. Twisted Padawan Shard's mind, her first Master did."

"But I didn't see it, Master. I was blind."

"Cloud everything, the dark side does."

"Yes, Master."

"Your Master, I am not. A Jedi Knight, you are."

"Just showing proper decorum, Master."

"On the floor, am I?"

Jikar quickly brought his eyes up to meet Yoda's, then immediately flinched from his piercing gaze. Yoda waited patiently until Jikar could maintain eye contact with him.

"Be ashamed, do not," Yoda admonished, "Learn from it, you must."

Jikar nodded. "I will."

With a nod, Yoda returned to the matter at hand. "Disappeared, your former Padawan has. Find her, we must."

"Good luck," Jikar said indifferently.

"Surprised you didn't volunteer, I am. A mark of wisdom, that is."

"Thank you, but why did you think I would volunteer?"

"A powerful influence, revenge is."

"Jedi do not seek revenge."

"And seek attachment, they do not."

"Attachment?"

"Forged a connection with you, Padawan Shard has.

"I only knew her a few weeks, Master."

"Familiarize with each other quickly, you did," Yoda said with a knowing look.

Jikar sighed. "Yes, Master."

"Trip, we all do, but fall, we must not."

"I was stabbed through the chest."

"Know the fall I suggest, you do."

"Yes, Master, but I don't understand why. She wanted Bren to find me dead."

"Stronger than she thought, you were, hmm?"

Jikar grinned in spite of himself.

"When find our weaknesses, forget our strengths, our enemies do."

"I had just gained a new perspective on myself."

"Share this insight, will you?"

"The way I saw myself was wrong. I am a Jedi."

"Forgot, did you?"

"For a time, I think I did. Getting stabbed changes you."

"Tend to scar, wounds do."

Jikar nodded, gingerly rubbing the tender spot on his chest.

"Learned something, you have."

"Yes, Master," Jikar said, bowing.

"May the Force be with you," Yoda said.

"And also with you, Master," Jikar said, bowing once more before leaving.

As he walked down Processional Way, Jikar flashed back to the day he met Makara. He found that he had a new answer to his daily question. Back then, he "suffered" life for himself, but now he enjoyed it for others.


End file.
